


she said, why don't you hold me?

by frozenlychee



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenlychee/pseuds/frozenlychee
Summary: “You loved her?” Naruto spat, almost ludicrous at his own tone. “Or do you only love her now thatshe’s dead.”And that was unfair. Sasuke gagged. His breath tightened behind the broken ribcage.That was remarkably unfair.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 20
Kudos: 94





	she said, why don't you hold me?

**Author's Note:**

> title from [Daffodils - Why Don't You Hold Me?](https://open.spotify.com/track/4PmhUWrNRYFKD4wGjgVGob?si=aWVrYW4mRpyP9jEPOQN9Fw)
> 
> please listen to [The Fray - Look After You](https://open.spotify.com/track/5l6hpyTGBK0LAAxgPnqTQL?si=0i2CtMreSXCwVXNsMJZ7Kw) while reading ; u ;.

To have come so close to love, and have it ripped violently from one’s touch—was the closest to hell one could have been, and Uchiha Sasuke was at the deepest level of it.

He truly believed so.

—&—

The funeral was short.

He snorted. What the fuck did he know about funeral customs in Konoha anymore, when he had left everything behind at the age of twelve. When his bloodstained hands must have resulted in at least five other ones he didn’t visit.

There were spots of damp soil, all lying still in the footprints of those who came before him, those who showed up amongst the other villagers, not lurking behind trees kilometres away from being spotted. The man took in a long breath, easing the sting that surged in his nostril. _Not now_ , he mumbled, _not in front of her_.

Sasuke glanced at the cloth table, at the white chrysanthemums placed down by previous attendees, its haunting white colour stared back at him and the single odd bloom in his hand—and he thought cynically, _this brought back memories._

Except, the last time he was here, he had been in the correct Konoha funeral garment, dark eyes emptied of dampness and the person comforting him had been her. With tears still warmed from her emerald eyes, her delicate fingers reached out to his and Sasuke let it happen. Let the gentle touch soothed over his soul as his gaze fell from bloom to bloom until nothing remained but the colour of grief.

Years later and there he was, not in the appropriate clothing, not bringing the right flower and no sight of her warmth by his side. All pretence of quiet coping was slipping gradually off his grip, and he blinked, slowly. In the lack of words, it was painful and heavy. Sasuke Uchiha was not rich nor blessed with everlasting connections, and yet, nothing in his life had prepared him enough for the drawn-out ache of this day.

The wind caressed the flowers that meant loyalty and love— _the right fucking floral arrangement_ , singling out the sole crooked blossom in his fingertips, and the tethering cold air then mockingly cursed him.

Once for being painstakingly out of place despite growing up under these customs.

Another for not being fast enough _that day_ , for choosing the wrong thing despite spending a large part of his life caring about the person in this memorial photo.

And finally, it utmostly frowned on him for being a pathetic, craven coward because even in death, he couldn’t be seen in the daylight with her.

All of which was true. Agonisingly true.

The swaying white petals then gawked at him, jabbing more unspoken words in his heart. They asked if he had ever loved anything at all, the voice reverbing in his mind sounded painstakingly close to Naruto’s. 

_“Do you only love her now that_ ** _she’s dead_** ,” it spat and he closed his eyes in mourning.

Sasuke placed down a single daffodil in the sea of ivory, letting its golden pistil bloomed obliviously happy in the swirl of thick air. The breeze blew it closer to the framed photo, and he caught a glint of light in her emerald eyes, the most apparent telltale sign of her emotions.

_“You know,” she smiled, rose-coloured hair tilted gently with the movement, “I really like daffodils.”_

_He didn’t react, dark eyes stared unblinking at the white sheet beneath._

_He wasn’t sure if she had been the real Sakura to reply._

_It had been three full days since he was admitted in the hospital in critical condition, three days after their battle against Gaara. Three days after the noon where he helplessly watched her dying._

_She had been fine when he laid her down for safety, asking Naruto to help aid him in fighting back. She had been fine when everything went blurry and he fell down from the other guy’s grip, his head almost cracking at the sudden air pressure. And she had been fine when he woke up gasping, his vitals alerted the nearest medical-nin to check upon him._

_Still, he hadn’t been fine._

_The nightmares visited him less since the side-effects of the medicines had been clearing up, adapting to the flow of his chakra as it recovered slowly. But they were nightmares, loud and haunting visions nonetheless. Visions that took her forms to get closer to his psyche, its ghosting breath crept up around him to the point of shattering his heart in lapses of dark thoughts._

_He had spent too many times waking up to her by his bed like this, her warmth faintly close and yet so far out of reach. He wouldn’t allow himself to be fooled again by the twisted abyss of his mind._

_“Does it still hurt, Sasuke-kun?”_

_She asked in her saccharine tone that sang like music to his ears, and he looked back._

_In the brightly lit room, her shadow was slimmer, almost non-existence, but he didn't want to take any guess. The sharp glare narrowed into the windows of her soul, scanning for signs of a monster in disguise to break free from her flesh. With his fists clenched, Sasuke braced for the darkness to sink its bloodthirsty teeth on his neck again, determination burned underneath his sickly pale skin._

_Innocuously, her eyes glimmered back at the gesture._

_The beautiful green irises freckled of yellow specks only expanded by his gaze, reflecting in her gleam was a field of blooming spring growth, and Sasuke felt himself letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding._

_So it was her, after all._

_Sasuke flickered his eyes back down as the abrupt heat rose up to the tip of his ears. He shook his head as a belated response to her previous question, and she smiled shyly at that._

_“I’m-uh, I'm glad then.”_

_A short pause, then, despite himself, the teen asked:_

_“About daffodils?”_

_Her shoulders flinched, one pale arm still hiding behind her back mischievously._

_“Yes?”_

_“You were talking about how they were your favourite now.” He added, voice low in his murmur. Sasuke hadn’t been the best to recognise social cues, but the silver lining was, no matter how many glimpses he didn’t quite catch; he could never miss Sakura’s._

_She had always been an open book to him, and it was a mystery in of itself, the way he could read her so well, and yet, still got caught off-guard by her actions countless of other times. She was pages of lovely pearl-grey paper with neat handwritings, a book he would find comfort over tucking it beneath his pillow for keepsake. Thoughts bloomed on her face through the slightest motion._

_She nodded, grinning lovingly and took it as a sign to continue her previous topic._

_“Mhm. I like them because even in the harshest winter, daffodils are known to keep its beauty against all odds. Isn’t that fascinating?”_

_He hummed a reply._

_The room had been cold, mellow and decent for the past days. He had been fine with the monotone space filled with sterile scent when he woke and yet, not until she was here that he was reminded of how vivid this world could be._

_Sakura burst in red and pink against the blank canvas with her existence. The colours bleeding down his bleak walls into fragile and delicate cherry blossoms petals, a longing trail of her touch on his skin, and Sasuke stared at his bandaged hands, both knowing and puzzled by her metaphor._

_Spring and winter. Warmth and cold. Her and him, he guessed._

_When he didn’t look up to meet her gaze, her dainty fingers placed down a single bloom next by his hospital bed. It was sweetly fragrant, but not too cloying to the nose. He glanced over, seeing that it had been the daffodil mentioned earlier. Dark eyes now studying the fresh bloom onsight._

_“The flower also means a new beginning and rebirth,” Sakura continued, noticing his sudden interest. Her tone pleased, almost cheery and in his mind, another blossom bloomed. “It’s the kind of strong flower that waits for the hope of spring. Patiently and wholeheartedly, it waits knowingly the happiness it’ll one day achieve.”_

_He nodded, looking up at her at the word ‘happiness’, and her pink skin flushed back. Dawn tinted its lovely self on her cheeks, her nose, and then, his world._

_Where their eyes locked, there was a pause. A comfortable quietness that whispered, “this flower reminded me of us” without having the words flown out from the curves of her mouth or the bruise corners of his._

Sasuke blinked slowly.

Silence had only been deafening since.

—&—

Ino had said it wasn’t his fault.

She was the first to ever say that to him.

The Yamanaka Flowers had been busy after the war, there were bouquets of chrysanthemum premade in her shop, all tied neatly with silk ribbon to show respect to the dead. Mostly to be prepared the day before Sakura’s funeral and he half-hoping she would have just tossed him one of them.

But she walked past the neat arrangements when he showed up.

With her back turned against him, she waved Sai off to the storage. A smile crinkling in the corner of his eyes and he complied, giving Sasuke one last undecipherable look before leaving.

They stood in silence. It was overwhelming scents of floral, all colours bright against his eyes and then,

“Sakura was happy, you know?”

In between the now ruffling noises and the pacing that left her moving back and forth like a pendulum, she searched for the blossom that they both had in mind. Something that long ago, Sakura had remarked to be their signature one. 

“She really was.” The conversation started, again, one-sided and he nodded.

“She told me, _‘Sasuke-kun held me in my dream the night before, so that must have been a sign right? I believe it meant the war would end well’_.” 

Ino walked up behind the counter. This time handing him the right flower and as the daffodil rested against his fingertips, Sasuke took in the words one by one.

The young woman smiled kindly at his movement, long lashes heavy with tears that she carefully dabbed away. Ino suckled in a breath, her sharp eyebrows now mellowed at the recall memory. “Silly wasn’t she? One of the brightest at our school but always so innocently happy over the smallest things.”

Sasuke didn’t reply, unsure if he should cut in the moment or not.

They looked at the simple flower, as oblivious in his hand as Sakura once had been, and exhaled slowly.

Like a force of habit, he delicately put the bloom down, stumbling for the coins in his worn-out pouch and Ino snorted at the sight.

She quickly waved him off.

“You know, people say you didn’t love her.” The sentence caught him off guard and Sasuke paused, patiently waited for the scolding that would usually come after.

It didn’t.

“I think you love her in ways that go beyond words.” She noted, finger-pointing at his old pouch that had been patched up clumsily all over, yet, the cherry blossom embroidered left untouched. “Her gift after the chūnin exams, wasn’t it?”

He nodded.

Then feeling the action was too curt, he added, “hers.”

“You sap.” She smiled knowingly, pulling out her own version of the gift from under the counter. “I got one too,” Ino jiggled the tiny sac, her fabric was purple where his had been black. “She said she made one for everyone precious to her, so you’re not that special, _Uchiha_.”

For the first time after months, he felt his lips curling into a genuine smile at that.

"Figured."

He decided to let the waves of nostalgia roll over them. Both tranquil in the pause of time.

It had been moments later where was a loud noise in the back, courtesy of an impatient Sai, and he recognised his cue to leave. The woman didn't let him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ino mumbled, wrapping the single daffodil in brown paper with rough twine. “Things get messy on the battlefield always.”

He didn’t reply. Sasuke opened his mouth to continue but then paused, looking down like he was listening to something the florist couldn't hear.

 _Guilt_.

But Ino cut him off before the self-hating sentence could be formed.

“Sakura was happy.” She reassured him. “That’s all you need to remember, Sasuke.” The blond woman handed him the flower again, now with instruction on how to care for it written on a paper note taped on. “ _You_ made her happy.”

He didn’t want to argue with her on that.

Thus the man only nodded and bid her a silent farewell.

When he was alone again with his thoughts, the daffodil leaning slightly in the vase on his dresser, he didn’t know if he wanted to believe those words.

—&—

Perhaps wherever Sakura was, someone who would tell her that he visited today, and the simple blossom he placed down also meant _forgiveness_. And that he hated it now, hated it so much for being a symbol of _them_ when it was ridden with sadness.

He hoped nobody in heaven would tell her the other tale behind the daffodil she was so fond of.

He prayed, _in however ways a sinner could pray_ , that she would never find out its tragic love story, that Narcissus—the guy whom this flower was named after—died entirely consumed by his own agenda and thoughts, while the only person who tried to filled his existence with pure love—Echo, was left unrequited and heartbroken until the very day she passed away out of grief.

If he could prevent her from ever finding out, he would.

Sasuke would rewrite the story a thousand times, the cadence fluctuated to the new narrative, the word arrangement changed, the scenarios shifted; all until it only boiled down to one thing, that their love wasn’t a tragedy.

And he would read it to her inquisitive mind, would listen to her perfect retells of it because her version would be perfect. She would find meaning in the littlest things he couldn’t see and open his eyes to them.

Sasuke would look at the way she breathed new life into the tale, then the simple flower and once again, into his life; close to what she had always done since they were young—before he let go of this wistful thought.

The man looked up, the sunlight harshed against his red-rimmed eyes, and he swallowed down the bitter aftertaste of guilt. Interwoven with the knots in his guts was an unsatisfiable yearning for something he would never have, something he could only hope Sakura would never have to suffer again—a longing for the love he didn’t deserve.

And fuck was it painful to accept that.

It was torturous to accept the bond he made with her, one that felt raw like the blood beating inside his veins, now cut short. The pain hurt more than any wound he had ever received, and he doubted he could ever feel hurt after it.

The red string of fate broke so suddenly, it made him question if this had been the real intent all along. He wondered, too often in isolation, if everything was fixed to teach him a life lesson because the Uchiha didn’t create. He exhaled shakily, jaw clenched tightly at the thought. _They only destroyed._

There were droplets of water trailing down his face, wet and iridescent in the light, but he didn’t cry.

A blanket of dark mist loomed over the bright lit sky, its presence noted a clear sign of the very first seasonal rain, but today it meant something different to Sasuke.

Today it meant belated mercy to him. Only him.

The downpour was loud. Louder than his own thoughts and his body was cut through by the chilling cold.

He gave her one last goodbye as he trotted home, soaking in the heaviness of her crystalline tears.

—&—

Sasuke spent the walk purposely avoiding the routes Naruto would be.

He knew the other needed as much solitude to grief as he did, perhaps even more so.

When team Seven was all Naruto had, when Sasuke had been a friend with nothing else to compare him to, and maybe, that meant he didn’t look so bad in the other’s eyes. But it didn’t take long for his image to be twisted and tainted with the choices he had made. Choices that left both of them simmering in anguish louder than any bombs.

Perhaps, it was easier for Naruto to hate him than to understand Sasuke’s values now that the strongest link between them had been broken off. Sakura was gone, the team disbanded and the guys no longer looked at each other.

Not anymore.

Not since Naruto swore that he would kill Sasuke after Sakura’s death.

**_“YOU DON’T HAVE A HEART, DO YOU, YOU FUCKING BASTARD?”_ **

_Naruto shrieked, his arms being yanked behind by Kakashi as their former teacher tried desperately to contain him. The sheer manpower hadn’t been enough because he shook the grip loose, lunching forward again._ **_“YOU WATCHED HER DIED!”_ ** _He cried, bloodshot eyes staring into the pit of Sasuke’s core like he was tearing the other apart in his mind. Everything was red. The colour of gore. The colour of death. The colour of her shirt._

_The crimson hue taunted them._

_He could feel the other’s irises narrowed in on him again, searching for a reaction to satisfy the immense heartbreak. They dug into his flesh and bones, the gaze cold to his cord. But there was nothing._

_Sasuke didn’t let him see anything._

**_“ANSWER ME YOU FUCKING COWARD!”_ ** _Naruto’s broad shoulders slumped down and he cursed, tears overflowing his visions. The voice cracked slightly as the hurt became too much to hold in, he growled and shook violently in Kakashi’s hold again. This time, in the strong embrace that he wished he didn’t get._

_The older man whispered in Naruto’s ears words that meant comfort, and the blond bit down on his lower lip until it burst. More droplets of red sinking in the cracked ground of a leftover battlefield._

_He cried again, hiccups that took hold of his breathing pattern and shattered it to bits._

**_“You were there and you watched her died.”_ ** _The young man wailed defeatedly, fingers bleeding red against the hard ground. Dirt left scrawl marks of where they once were, long, helpless scratches as if he was digging his way to hell._

_Sasuke blinked. He was sure they were already there._

**_“You fucking let Sakura died.”_** _The scream tore through their deserted surrounding with its furious echo. He chose to once again, ignore it._

_Sasuke tried to support his own body weight with one arm, the other one bleeding and mauled from their match. He could see the bone sticking out, its ivory self coated in layers of oozing dark red. But it didn’t hurt as much. The cuts on his body didn’t hurt as much as the words flowing in them._

_Still, he wouldn’t let Naruto in._

_He couldn’t let Naruto in._

**_“All that talks about coming home… About wanting to atone for your crimes… About wanting to have a future...,”_ ** _the blond started again, his brows furrowed like it pained him greatly to recall these words. Promises that were once shared between them_ — _were now wistful dreams in the cluster of the aftermath. The possibilities bruised down into forbidden ‘what-if’._ **_“They were all fucking bullshits weren’t they?”_ **

_No, he wanted to say back to his friend. No, they weren’t all lies._

_He wanted to tell the other that he had been longing to restart. That he wanted to shred himself open the moment Sakura’s eyes turned milky against the skyline. That she died in his arms and he felt the warmth left her body. That he still had nightmares about it. That he had desperately begged_ **_‘no no no no no no please God don’t fucking do this no no no no no please anything but her ANYTHING BUT HER’_ ** _into her corpse, tears dropping nonstop against the cold skin. That the future he wanted to have was no longer a fucking option he could see._

_That ever since her death, he only saw himself falling deeper into the fire of hell._

_But Naruto needed this moment to cope more than he did, Naruto needed to process these emotions much more than he did. Thus, Sasuke suppressed all his urges to break down into loud, ears deafening screams and chose the familiar silence as his reply._

_The hush didn’t last as long as he would hope, because when the other started again, it pierced where it hurt the most._

**_“You loved her?”_ ** _Naruto spat, almost ludicrous at his own tone._ **_“Or do you only love her now that she’s dead.”_ **

_And that was unfair. Sasuke gagged. His breath tightened behind the broken ribcage._

_That was remarkably unfair._

**_“WOULD YOU SHUT UP FOR ONCE AND REALISED I LOST HER TOO?”_ ** _The scream crashed through him. It roared, the vibrancy high and loud as a tremendous thunderstorm, and Sasuke flinched at his own voice._

_Disbelieved and confused. He felt his pulse quicken, heart throbbing loudly in the space of his chest. The noise was raw, so raw and real that he didn’t believe it came out from his own lungs and breaths. The sound resembled an animalistic primal shriek, close to a person consumed by a strain that knew no limit. Then he went quiet, just panting._

_“I lost her, too.” He whispered, heavy with hurt._

_Grief draped itself over Sasuke and his tears ran hot against the wounds and the cuts._

_He lost her, too._

—&—

Home was a motel room far from the village.

Home was the place where less than a day ago, Suigetsu had begged him not to show up at the funeral because Naruto would have killed him on sight. Home was the place where he ignored the request, got into a fight where he growled at the other through gritted teeth, and soon found out Suigetsu had packed up his share of things before Sasuke returned.

Home was now an empty room with an unmade bed and a face-down framed photograph.

And by tomorrow’s dawn, home would be uncertain, again.

Sasuke closed the bathroom door shut. He bundled up his shirt with one hand, slipping it off the scarred shoulders, and just... _stared_ at the amputated limb.

In the foggy mirror reflected a young man without his left arm. His chest was healing from the cherry blossom carved in, its petal no longer bleeding against the rugged skin. It was healing. He wasn't.

In one prolonged second of tracing the scars down to his abdomen, he believed, hell was more personal than one had ever thought.

And that Uchiha Sasuke was at the bottom level of it.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> —[frozenlychee](https://twitter.com/frozenlychee/)


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